


Break the Ice

by Sales Associate Steve (Stiney)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Human Castiel, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Season/Series 09, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stiney/pseuds/Sales%20Associate%20Steve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester does not cuddle, dammit!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break the Ice

“Dean, it’s cold.”

He was _not_ ignoring the chattering complaint from the backseat.

_Not exactly._

Ok, _fine_ , maybe he was. But _only_ because the tractor trailer in front of them had crossed lanes twice already and all Dean wanted to do was stay alive and ahead of the impending snowstorm.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that they were in freezing ass B.F.E. in the middle of January with still another 8 hours to go before they got to their final stop at even _more frozen,_ Ass-end, Maine.

 _No shit it was cold_.

His baby’s heater was doing the best she could, it just wasn’t enough. It wasn’t her fault, though. Dean hadn’t had time to get her properly ready. The three of them had loaded up and hauled ass the minute Garth called about a sudden uptick of possible demon activity in Millinocket.

They could have left it to another hunter but the area was too close to where he’d been puked out of Purgatory for Dean’s comfort; especially when there was still the threat of Abaddon running around on the loose.

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel he glanced out of the corner of his eye as Sam uncurled himself from his blanket burrito and reached for the heater controls.

“Ow, dammit Dean!” Sam yelped seconds later, yanking back his slapped hand.

“Dude, she can’t go any higher.” Dean pointed out for what felt like the thousandth time before returning his full attention to the road.

“Deaaaaan…”

_How was this his life?_

The sight that greeted the older Winchester in the rearview had a sharp bark of laughter overtaking his exasperated sigh.

Cas was wearing what looked like every bit of clothes, not just from his own duffle but Dean and Sam’s as well. Topped off with the two extra blankets wrapped to the point all Dean could see was the tiniest hint of tan trench coat and a scowl that the hunter was thankful was no longer backed by angelic mojo.

“My extreme discomfort is in no way amusing.”

“Dude, it’s friggin’ hilarious.” Dean chuckled even as Sam shot him a bitchface. “What? Millions of years old and he’s gonna let a little chilly weather kick his ass?”

“Really, Dean? Do you always have to be such a…”

 _“Fuck!”_ Dean shouted; focus snapping to where the 18-wheeler swerved once again. “Who gave that dumbass a license to drive something that big? He shouldn’t even be allowed behind the wheel of a goddamned golf cart!”

*****

An hour later had Dean peeking at the former angel leaned against the backdoor. Where, if it was possible, he looked even more miserable than before.

That was until Cas saw Dean watching him.

Then he became all stiff posture and tight set jaw. The same defiant irritation that’d been there last week when he’d slammed Sam effortlessly to the gym’s practice mat after the younger Winchester made the unfortunate mistake of joking about _'taking it easy’_ on the former angel.

 _“I am not a child to be coddled.”_ Cas had growled after laying Sam out flat for the third time.

_Shit._

It was easier to focus on…not forget, _because Dean was sure he’d never forget,_ when _“That was awesome.”_ got a wide grin after they’d been in the firing range. Or a pleased whisper of _“It reminds me of flying.”_ shared at the end of a run with Sam.

Not the days where coaxing was futile at unlocking bedroom doors. At the refusal to discuss in the light of morning the appearance of violent red lines clawed over the expanse of throat following a night full of shouting at unseen things.

_Dean knew it was selfish. He also knew he’d been a giant fucking asshole._

“Son of a bitch.” After easing onto the Interstate shoulder he slapped the snoring, brother shaped mass of blue polyester beside him.

“Sammy!”

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam flailed, peering around in confusion.

“Your turn to drive.” He said, getting out and jogging to the other side of the car.

“You couldn’t wait for a gas station or something?”

“Nope.” He slid into the backseat and tugged at the scratchy, wool Army blanket while Cas squinted at him.

“What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer until after he’d gotten them both snugly rewrapped.

“It’s cold.” He hooked an arm around the former angel’s shoulder and pulled him closer, even as the other man eyed him warily. "What?"

“Nothing." Cas shook his head and offered a small smile that warmed the hunter more than the blankets. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean shrugged with a grin of his own. “Yeah, well…”

A forceful cough brought attention to the front seat.

“All set?”

Not even Sam’s _huge_ shit-eating smirk bothered Dean when cold fingers splayed over his flannel clad stomach and an even icier nose was tucked against his neck.

“Yep. We’re good.”


End file.
